


Happen at Once

by tree



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, XF Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-22
Updated: 2008-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wonders what Mulder tastes like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happen at Once

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first [XF Porn Battle](http://community.livejournal.com/xf_pornbattle/3435.html), for the prompt Scully/Ethan, time.
> 
> I had to cut this down quite a bit since the original was too long to fit within the character limit. There’s something to be said for being forced to hack away at your own work, I suppose, but it did remind me somewhat unpleasantly of the torture that was writing ‘Instructions.’ This is the first one I wrote and consequently the most like a ‘proper’ fic I think.

> The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once. –Albert Einstein

 

 

“Dana, I miss you,” he says. “It’s been almost a week.”

A glance at the clock tells her it’s 11:21. She has to be up for work in six hours. “Ethan, I’m tired,” she says. The truth is that she hasn’t missed him at all.

He nuzzles behind her ear, under her jaw. “Just let me touch you. Let me make you feel good.”

She allows him to move her to the bed and undress her.

Of late, Ethan’s begun to irritate her. He’s too accommodating, too easygoing. Sometimes she wishes he were a little more willing to push her. Not aggressive, she thinks as he licks his way across her body. Challenging.

The word conjures an image of Mulder from earlier today, arguing with her.

“But nothing is immutable, Scully,” he’s saying. “Facts are only facts insofar as there is no further evidence to disprove them.” She can almost feel his will pulling at her like centripetal force. It’s exciting, taking on his mind’s mobile acrobatics with her own sharp precision.

It’s erotic.

“Oh God,” she moans with a kind of horror. She _cannot_ think about her partner while Ethan is making love to her. But the sudden slickness between her thighs has nothing to do with the man in her bed. She pulls Ethan up to kiss him.

Mulder wouldn’t kiss her like this, she thinks. His mouth would learn all her secrets. His tongue would stab and stroke until she was crazy with it, until she had to have some part of him inside her, his fingers, his cock.

Ethan’s fingers are sliding gently through her pubic hair and she moans. She’s forgotten all about being tired.

Mulder’s hair is darker than Ethan’s, his body longer and sleeker. She’s imagining him in one of his dress shirts, with the sleeves rolled up so the hair along his arms prickles her skin. His hands are so big, so hot.

Ethan rolls to the nightstand to find a condom and she rubs shamelessly against his back, sucking at his scapula. She wonders what Mulder tastes like.

When Ethan moves over her there’s so much tenderness in his look that she can’t bear it. Tonight she doesn’t want tenderness; what she needs is for him to pound into her until she stops wanting it to be Mulder pinning her to the bed.

“Just fuck me,” she whispers into Ethan’s ear. He makes a choked sound, eyes wide with shocked arousal.

She closes her eyes and it’s wrong but it’s Mulder. Mulder in his dress shirt and slacks with his zipper down and his belt buckle cold against her hip. Mulder trapping her against a wall or a desk or the car door with her skirt hiked up and her underwear pushed aside because he just couldn’t wait. Mulder moaning terrible, dirty things in her ear while she clutches his biceps and bites at his neck. Mulder and this clawing, grabbing violence between them until she understands the female praying mantis who eats her lover whole.

In bed with Ethan her body writhes urgently under his thrusts. In her head it’s Mulder’s finger circling hard around her clit while she whimpers against his mouth. They’re not even kissing anymore, just sharing breath; too focussed on the corkscrewing pleasure between them. His eyes are open and locked with hers, the pupils huge and dark.

She wants to feel him, to run her hands over the sweat on his back and trace the ridges of his ribs. Ethan’s hands are all over her, but Mulder’s barely touch her and still it’s enough to bring the pleasure welling up under her skin until she bursts with it like a bruise.

She arches her back against the wall or the desk or the door, against the soft cotton sheet, feels the tightening of her muscles, the pulse of every blood-engorged tissue. Ethan is muttering a litany of “Dana, oh God, Dana” and Mulder is growling against her neck, “Come for me Scully” until she’s suffocating because he’s everywhere inside her, stretching her body and her mind, and it’s so good she wants it to go on forever.

They’re assaulting each other with lips and teeth, his stubble rasping against her cheeks. She grabs the back of his neck to pull herself just a little higher and thrusts down as he’s thrusting up and that’s it, that’s enough, she’s coming hard and so is he, like nuclear fusion, like the birth of a sun.

She opens her eyes and sees Ethan, lax and sleepy beside her. “Love you,” he murmurs.

Over his shoulder, the clock reads 11:30. Nine minutes.


End file.
